


The importance of dinner

by Azmodel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Incubus!John, M/M, demon!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:31:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5704399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azmodel/pseuds/Azmodel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is keeping John from getting what he needs, but the doctor will only stand it for so long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The importance of dinner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Belladonna_Q](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belladonna_Q/gifts).



> Ok, this was supposed to be a gift for BelladonnaQ….. over a year ago. She expressed a fondness for demon!John so here is what I wrote. It’s not very good, and trying to write porn proved an epic fail. So no sex, sorry.  
> Un-betaed so let me know if you see any mistake.

  When he first met Sherlock and agreed to move in with the detective John Watson had no idea his life would become so difficult. Sure, he never had time to get bored ; and the sleuth always was a wonder to watch in action... At one point he had thought he was  _ one  _ too, so otherworldly the genius was. But as time passed the dark haired man became the biggest cock-block ever known to man. And THAT really was a problem for the poor doctor. 

 

  Because you see John was a  _ demon _ . An incubus to be precise. Oh, not the kind of creature from Hell the Bible described, nope. Not at all since it was the name given to anomalies, humans born with strange abilities. More like a disability in the ex soldier’s opinion. Geneticists had not yet found an explanation on where such exceptions came from : some supposed it could be the next step in the evolution of mankind. Others argued that it had to be recessive genes from long since extinct branches of homo sapiens. Anyway John couldn’t care less for all he knew was that since puberty hit he had needed a large dose of sex to stay healthy and sane. Not that he minded all that much, but having to find new partners frequently was turning into a chore, and the general populace didn’t take too kindly to the demons. Usually the unassuming blogger had no problems to pull since years of experience, plus the attraction  his profession and former uniform had on some women made up for the lack of “magical” charm to help satisfy his needs. Really nature had fucked up when it had created the demons.

 

  Back to the problem at hand : it had been weeks since John had last gotten laid, and it was becoming urgent for him to do so. Already his flatmate had noticed a tendency to fidget and an increased irritability. The blogger was an adrenaline junkie, but what he needed most where the chemicals released while having sex. And, no, his hand just wouldn’t be enough. He would know. Tonight he had a date, it really didn’t matter with whom at this point. Probably the cute temp filling in for the secretary. God help him if Sherlock managed to get in the way - again.

 

  Three dates and as many disgruntled women later, John really was reaching the end of his rope. He HAD to get laid, and soon at that. Taking the first opportunity presented to him -it seemed Molly had a very interesting set of six fingered hands back at Bart’s- to go to the first pub a ten minutes walk away from Baker Street.

 He was just about to get a lovely redhead to set off for a private place when his phone alerted him of a text. And then another. Getting annoyed by the twelfth he took it out and checked the latest one, requiring him back at the flat for an emergency. 

 

  The good doctor hesitated for a couple seconds. “Emergency” could mean anything : either Sherlock was looking for his skull (Mrs Hudson tended to hide it as retribution) or a full hazmat team was decontaminating their home after a toxic mould culture got out of hand. Or worse. And as usual worry and care for his best friend won over and John quickly left the pub after hasty apologies. It better be for a  **very** good reason.

 

* * *

 

  The ex-soldier barged in the flat, somewhat reassured not to have found emergency cars at the front door. The living room was empty, and calling his friend’s name was useless. Could the detective have gotten kidnapped? Surely not. Some noise was coming from Sherlock’s bedroom and just as he was turning to investigate them the other man entered the kitchen with a dirty laundry hamper. Stuck dumb the blond could only stare as the deep baritone voice confirmed his budding fears.

 

“ - Ah, John, here you are. I need you to pop to the dry cleaners. I’ve no suits left. Why didn’t you do it last time I told you?

\- I beg you pardon?

\- The laundry, John. My clothes won’t wash themselves.

\- Tell me you’re just joking Sherlock. Please, tell me you haven’t called me back because you can’t manage your own dirty clothes?! You said it was an emergency!

\- Well, of course. How am I to go out if the Yard calls?“

 

  The “don’t be an idiot” look the sleuth sent him finally broke the blogger’s temper. Before the tall curly haired man could react  the shorter one had him pinned against wall, right next to the fridge. He wasn’t angry, he was properly livid. Sherlock had to know his friend was a demon. He HAD to. Probably even could determine what kind and his needs. So why, why did he always ruin his chances at getting laid?

 

“ - I’m not your maid, Sherlock. And surely you  _ must  _ have more important things to do than spend so much time preventing me from completing a bloody date!

\- I don’t…

\- … Yes you do! Those past couple of months you’ve only needed me in the evenings when I was on one. Don’t think I haven’t noticed! So either you leave me the fuck alone or I’ll have to do with what I got and bed  _ you _ !”

 

It was the genius’ turn to be left speechless. The surprise on his face plain to see but for once John couldn’t appreciate the rarity of it. And then, the proverbial lightbulb went on behind those metal-grey eyes. 

 

“- You are a demon.

\- Humf, I thought you’d have figured out much sooner. 

\- But what kind? I saw someone call you “Three continents Watson” on your blog, and your obstination to date all women amendable enough… Incubus ?

\- Well deducted, now will you stop bothering me when I’m on a date? I know it’s all transport for you but I don’t give a shit.

\- Now John, calm down and let me go.

\- Not before I get it through your thick skull ! Either I get some space for dating or you’ll have to be the one to ‘feed’ me.”

 

 The doctor was pretty sure that would get his friend to relent, not that he would have minded getting his hands on all that porcelain skin but he knew how Sherlock looked down on bodily needs. Huffing a little the taller of the two finally answered.

 

“ - Fine.

\- Great, glad we came to an understanding. Now that woman might still be at the pub, you better not interrupt me again …

\- ...No. 

\- What now?

\- Don’t be tedious John. I agree to … take care of your endorphin requirements. Rather than have you disappear and having to deal with your ‘girlfriends’.

\- I thought you were married to your work.

\- And you aren’t gay, as you like to remind people at every turn..

\- Bissexual as you should know. How else would I have survived through the army? Anyway let’s make something clear : if you are to become my partner you won’t be able to lay there and think of England. Masturbation doesn’t work, oxytocin levels are higher if both participants are willing.

\- As if I don’t know. Contrary to what some have assumed, I am no virgin. Now shut up and get on with it!”

 

    Such domineering attitude brought a smirk to the doctor’s face for a second before he started snogging the still pinned man senseless. He didn’t let it last for long though as he had other priorities in mind. Finding a bed for one. Then he could properly start on giving a lesson to his insufferable best friend turned lover : no one bossed the former Captain in bed. Especially not the cock-blocking detective.  


 

* * *

 

Cuddled against his lover’s back John was humming with contentment but unfortunately even post orgasmic bliss couldn’t keep the lanky detective silent. 

“- So, are your oxytocin levels acceptable now?

\- Oh no, I’m just getting started. Shut up and sleep, you’ll need it.”

 

~The end ~


End file.
